i'm always just a step from you
by Maximillian Delirium
Summary: "Lukas is trapped in memory. Copenhagen. Prague. The last time they saw each other. There was blood and smoke. He aches all the way down his spine. From impressionable childhood to the cold reality of adulthood. From the halcyon days when their gifts were first making themselves known in the warmest spring they'd ever known, to the coldest winter of the war." DenNor Magic AU
1. Chapter 1

He doesn't care about the darkening sky. There are more important things to worry about, even though the coming rain could erase his hastily scratched circle. He bleeds.

His laces are coming undone. The edges of his jeans are caked with mud. Sweat adheres his t-shirt to his back, and a cold wind hits him full in the face, the scent of ozone smacking him straight in the nose. There is no more running.

"Bondevik."

He turns. The enemy is here, his scarf whipping in the wind. He is just as winded, perhaps even worse for wear. A fresh wound beneath his eye smears red across his cheekbones.

Lukas looks down at his circle. He's drawn it correctly. This is his last resort. He meets the other man's eyes. They are electric blue and dangerous. There is no anger there, no hate, only regret.

"I don't want to hurt you," he says.

Lukas takes in a breath and holds it there. He shakes his head. Surprisingly, he feels no fear. He thought that, perhaps, when faced with death, there would be _something_. Terror. Nausea. But there is nothing.

The man steps forward, a ball of lightning materializing in his hand. He says nothing. He doesn't wish to hurt Lukas, so he'll make this quick. Efficient and painless, the signature style of Oxenstierna.

Lukas looks down, then shouts a word in the old language. The circle ignites with blue fire and he is gone, pulled away by another force. The lightning sails through empty air. In the abandoned playground, rain falls.

He feels his cheek pressed against familiar floorboards. Lukas takes a shuddering breath. He's shaking all over. It takes a while for him to stand up, then even longer for him to stumble from his chalk circle and sink into an old armchair.

There's not much time. He has to move, and fast. But he's so tired. He scuffs some of the chalk on the circle, just in case the marks in the dirt are still intact, leaving Berwald an open gateway through which to pursue him.

Lukas looks around the room. There is no sentimentality for the place. It was nothing more than an outpost, a place to nest for the time being. He forces himself to stand.

His suitcase is in the closet. It will be child's play to buy tickets for a train online. There are other towns, other places he can run to. And there are allies.

* * *

><p>Mathias wakes up to the sound of his apartment being broken into. He lies very still in bed, eyes half open. There is always the possibility that this is just an ordinary burglar. It's a very slim possibility.<p>

He hears deliberately quiet footsteps outside his bedroom door. His hands shake. Feigning sleep doesn't sound like a very good idea. He begins to sit up just as the door crashes inward.

"Shit!" The intruder ducks as a bolt of fire slams into the frame behind him, leaving an ugly black singe mark. Mathias is about to fire another round when the intruder turns on the lights. "It's me! Jesus, put that away."

Mathias grins sheepishly. "Sorry. You know, if you didn't want to get roasted, you shouldn't break into other people's apartments."

Antonio huffs, but he is also smiling. "It's an emergency. And you were asleep." Mathias glances at his clock. "It's 3AM!"

"_A quien madruga, Dios le ayuda_," Antonio replies. "Get up!" He claps his hands twice and loudly. Wincing, Mathias drags himself from his bed. It takes him longer than Antonio is patient for to get dressed. Everything in his room is out of order.

"What's the emergency?" Mathias says with a yawn.

"They know we're here and they're closing in. It's probably only a couple of hours before they find this house," Antonio says, looking at all the clothes strewn on the floor. "Are you good at packing fast?"

Mathias drops the shirt he's holding. "What?"

"It's that Kirkland guy too. And I think Elizaveta's with him as well. They sent in the big guns." He's still grinning. Mathias can only stare at him in horror.

"They're coming here?" he says, pointing at the floor.

"Where else?" Antonio shrugs. "We're the only two here. It's either my house or yours. Don't worry, I'm already packed and ready to go. Got us seats on the first bus out of here."

Mathias quickly retrieves his shirt and pulls it over his head. He rushes from the room and returns with his biggest suitcase. Antonio helps him toss articles of clothing into it, along with a plastic bag of toiletries that Mathias has set aside for emergencies. He runs back and forth between his room and the living room, choosing his favorite books (plus the magical ones. Those are dangerous).

"Ah, just like old times," Antonio says. "You know, it was getting kind of boring here anyway. Always good to be traveling, no?"

Mathia smirks.

* * *

><p>They're leaving the house by the back door, each carrying a suitcase and bus tickets, when a pair of figures step into the alley. One is a man with thick eyebrows. The other is a woman, her brown hair loose around her shoulders. The man wears a black coat. The woman is dressed more naturally, in greens and blues, with thick leggings and brown boots. Mathias and Antonio skid to a halt.<p>

"Going somewhere?" the man says.

"Yeah," Mathias says. "We've got a bus to catch."

"Afraid you're going to have to miss it, boys," the man says, pulling on a pair of black gloves. The woman beside him slides her purse off her arm. It clangs as it drops to the ground. Antonio doesn't hesitate. A wall of fire springs up between him and the dangerous pair. Mathias doesn't need to be told to run. He spins on his heel and races down the alley, suitcase in tow. There's no way he's leaving it behind; not with all the books of magic contained within.

The air shimmers in front of him, and the woman is suddenly standing there, a heavy, dark object raised above her head. He only narrowly dodges her swing. He throws an energy pulse at her. The impact knocks her back, but doesn't floor her. Mathias tries to heft the suitcase at her, to no avail.

Meanwhile, the man with the thick eyebrows stalks through the flame, somehow impervious to them. Antonio laughs. "Wow! Nice one, Arthur! _¡Asombroso!_"

Arthur doesn't mince words. He hits Antonio with a hard bolt of magic that sends him careening into the wall. The Spaniard laughs again, then returns with fire. Small flames spring up along Arthur Kirkland's arms and legs, but have no affect. The Englishman merely glances at them and they wither away.

"A valiant effort," he says, "but not good enough." He kicks Antonio in the chest, sending him to the ground. "You've gotten weaker, Carriedo."

Mathias ducks another one of Elizaveta's swings. A blow from whatever she's holding is going to be nasty, even if it isn't enchanted (although it is). She's got a very strong arm.

"Let's talk about this," he says. "You don't actually want to kill me, do you?"

"Yes." Swing. Miss. "I do." Swing. Miss.

Mathias wishes he could summon his weapon. It would take a considerable amount of energy and time that he doesn't have, however, not while he's dodging Elizaveta's vicious attacks. Behind him, he hears Antonio destroying the alleyway.

Even with all the noise, the neighbors aren't waking up to see what all the racket is. Probably a sound cancellation over this entire area. The enemy is nothing if not thorough. Ordinary people would get in the way, and neither side wants any sort of collateral damage.

Suddenly, there's a sound like breaking glass, and the entire alley is choked with fog. Mathias, just ducking away from another blow, can no longer see anything. He coughs. There's a light touch on his shoulder.

"This way." It's not Antonio's voice, but it's familiar. Mathias grasps the handle of his suitcase more tightly and runs. He can make out Arthur and Elizaveta's coughs and their attempts to disperse the fog, but it's useless. This lasts for a good two hours, dismissal or no. Mathias can't believe his luck.

Once they're clear of the fog, Mathias sees that Antonio has also made his way out safely. Their savior whistles. Antonio is covered with bruises. His left eye is already swelling closed.

"You are getting reckless, _mon ami_."

Antonio wags a finger. "You don't have any room to talk, Francis."

Francis smooths his golden hair behind one ear, affecting a look of nonchalance. "You can thank me for saving you later. For now, we must get to the bus station and quickly. Here, _ma pauvre_. Let me fix your face."

Mathias begins to breathe normally again. He glances over his shoulder. It seems they're in the clear. For now.

* * *

><p>Arthur and Elizaveta eventually manage their way out of the fog. It's Elizaveta who curses first, hurling her frying pan at the wall. Sparks fly. Arthur is obviously fuming, trying to hold it in.<p>

"That is the last time they make fools out of us."


	2. Chapter 2

Lukas's cellphone goes off, waking him. As he eases it out of his pocket, he glances at the other passengers. It's careless to fall asleep on public transport. Any one of these people could be the enemy. He checks the screen. Arthur.

"Hello?"

"We lost them. We had them caught and we lost them. Lord knows where they are now. What about you? You said that you thought someone had found you."

"He did," Lukas says. "But I got away. I doubt he'll follow me."

"Who was it?"

"Oxenstierna. And yours?"

"Carriedo and Køhler. And Bonnefoy. That last trick had his stench all over it." Lukas can hear the Englishman grinding his teeth. "Køhler had an obscene amount of magical texts as well. We checked his flat. He's cleared the place out."

Lukas closes his eyes briefly. All that knowledge. In the hands of the enemy. "Alright. I'll see if I can find them anywhere."

"Any bit helps. Thank you."

They hang up. Arthur doesn't ask where Lukas is heading now. Lukas doesn't ask where Arthur is either. Any loose information can be deadly. Lukas leans back in his seat. Køhler. The bookkeeper. He hasn't seen him since Prague. What a strange little reunion it will be.

* * *

><p>Magical books are a problem. Old dogs can learn new tricks, if they have the right resources. Lukas's only comfort is that they don't have his particular talent, the one he and Arthur share. Only one person on their side has that ability, and it's vastly limited. Outside, the nighttime landscape flashes by.<p>

Mathias gazes at the clusters of black umbrellas that cover the street. He stands in his own cluster with Antonio and Francis. They all look like unassuming men, standing shoulder to shoulder, wearing dark coats and elegant scarves (in the case of Francis).

"Ah," the Frenchman says, his eyebrows lifting. He points to a pair of young men approaching. Both of them carry deep red umbrellas, and are dressed very similarly in dark blue coats. Their most distinguishing feature are the mirror image curls that stick out from the sides of their heads like they refuse to be included with the rest of their hair. One is smiling; the other scowls at everything.

"_Ciao_," says the smiling one. "It's good to see you, Antonio. Francis." They all kiss cheeks. When the young man turns to him, Mathias nervously follows the ritual, brushing the side of his face against the young man's in what he hopes is a polite manner. He smells strongly of spices.

The scowling young man kisses only Antonio, who beams radiantly, murmuring something in Italian. The young man flushes.

"Feliciano, Lovino," Francis says. "This is Mathias. I don't think you've met yet. Mathias, this is Feliciano and Lovino Vargas." He helpfully indicates which is which.

Lovino continues to scowl. Feliciano nods and smiles. "Well, we'd better get going. I hope you don't mind sharing rooms. Not a lot of space."

"Not at all," Antonio says. "Come on, everyone."

They follow the Vargas brothers out of the public square.

* * *

><p>The Vargas's have money. To be honest, Mathias does as well, but the Vargas's clearly spend theirs: hard wood floors, granite counter tops, nice leather furniture. The whole place is warded too. Mathias bets the twins never have to suddenly pack up and move. The enemy probably can't even find them.<p>

It's a very homey type of magic, very comfortable. Even though it's a swank apartment, there are touches of humble living. A couple of pictures here and there, a paperback with a bookmark in it.

Feliciano takes Mathias's suitcase. "I'll put it in the guest room, okay? Great."

Mathias is a little reluctant to part with it, but he knows Feliciano is trustworthy. If Antonio trusts them, then he can. After all, they are on the same side.

Lovino leans on the counter. "So why did you come here?" he demands.

"We got chased out of our old digs," Antonio explains. "This is a safe place. Besides, I wanted to see how you're doing. I worry, _mi querido_."

Lovino's face turns red again. Mathias hides his smirk. Though Antonio has never mentioned it, there is, without a doubt, something between him and the young Italian. "Shut up," the Italian says. "So they found you. How are you sure you didn't lead them straight here?"

"They couldn't have," Francis says. "I made sure."

Lovino sighs and turns to the fridge. "Whatever. It would take a fucking nuclear warhead to get past our defenses anyway."

"You have to put a quarter in the swear jar," Feliciano says, reappearing in the room. "I heard it."

Lovino grumbles a bit more and digs through his pockets for a quarter. There's an enormous half filled jar on the counter next to a vase of flowers. Feliciano turns to Antonio. "I'm helping him stop swearing. It's not good for his blood pressure."

"I'm really proud of you, Lovino!" Antonio says, grinning.

"Cram it!"

Mathias smiles. After the events of last night, all this is a relief. But he can't rest yet. There's something he must do.

* * *

><p>Old books have a distinct smell. Mathias likes the mingled scent of leather and old parchment, and the way the pages feel beneath his fingertips. He's always been a bookkeeper, even with no books to keep. Now that he has them, his duties weigh on him even heavier. So many new spells; so many ways they could go wrong.<p>

The sad truth is that their "war" is little more than brief skirmishes and running. Always running. But with these grimoires in their possession, they could finally go on the offensive. Mathias is giddy with anticipation. He's not a particularly ambitious guy, but he does love the thought of finally making a stand. Because the other side is powerful. He takes a deep breath and opens the first volume.

* * *

><p>Lukas has never had a particular fondness for any city, but this one is nice. Even if it is raining. He isn't bothered by the cold. He steps off the platform and looks around. What he needs is a empty lot, a place where he won't be disturbed. Urban life doesn't appeal to him.<p>

It takes over two hours to find both a place to sleep and a place to perform a summoning. The hostel isn't the best, but it will do. The lot is much better. He ignores the warning sign on the fence and climbs over it.

The lot is mostly turned to mud by now, but Lukas can work with that. He smooths it out with the flat of his sneakers, then makes the necessary marks with a stiff piece of wire he found lying around.

He'll never forget the first time he met a _jotun_. It was completely by accident and it was wounded, hunched behind his house. It towered over everything and turned the air frosty cold (or, colder than before. It was the middle of Norwegian winter). Lukas had been six. To summon one of those was unnecessary, however. _Jotuns_ are good for combat and protection. What he needs is information, a way to track those books. And if anything can smell magic, it's the fae.

They also like to talk a lot. Sometimes it's hard to shut them up. Lukas tries to drown them out to the best of his ability. Though he's favored by them, he knows that on their most base level, they are liars and cheats and will do anything to escape control. But they'll come when he calls.

The thing he summons is blue with shapely legs. It's hairless. When it opens its eyes, there are completely yellow, all the way through the whites. "What do you want?" it snaps.

Lukas ignores the irritable tone and says, "I need you to help me find something. Books of magic. You're to return to me and tell me where they are the moment you find them."

The thing turns over in midair, its yellow eyes never leaving Lukas's face. "I don't do things for free. The others might bow to your every whim, but I..." It trails off. Lukas holds an iron bar in one gloved hand.

"Go. Don't waste my time."


	3. Chapter 3

Mathias wakes up with his cheek stuck to the open page of a book. Sunlight creeps in between the blinds. Someone is knocking on his door, calling his name. Mathias wipes away what might be spit from the corner of his mouth and examines the book. His sleeping on it hasn't appeared to harm it in the slightest.

"Mathias!"

He answers the door. Antonio stands outside, fully dressed. He gives Mathias a once over, then clucks his tongue. "You were up until midnight again, weren't you?"

"More like 2AM." He glances over his shoulder. There's loose leaf all over the floor. He must have fallen asleep mid translation. "What's up?"

"I came to say goodbye," Antonio says, smiling. "I would stay longer, but I've got places to be." He leans forward and gives Mathias a quick hug. "The boys will take care of you until you decide to move on. Ignore Lovino's moods. He's just a sourpuss." He laughs. Mathias smiles back.

"What are you going to do?"

"Revenge?" Antonio's smile is less pleasant. "Or perhaps a minor strike. Not much. Anyway, there's a train leaving in an hour, so I'll see you later. Give me a call if you need help. But remember: only for emergencies." He winks and turns down the hall.

* * *

><p>To think he's so close. Lukas's hands tremble with anticipation. He puts them in his pockets. How has Mathias changed? What will he say when he sees him again? Maybe it would be better to say nothing at all.<p>

He recalls the old days, when he was not so jaded. Mathias has always been the enemy. That's just how it is. But Mathias was not like the others. His soul resonated at a different frequency. He was fierce and horrible and arrogant and he smiled like the sun breaking through the clouds. Such power and energy in one body. He was an explosion waiting to happen.

Lukas is trapped in memory. Copenhagen. Prague. The last time they saw each other. There was blood and smoke. He aches all the way down his spine. From impressionable childhood to the cold reality of adulthood. From the halcyon days when their gifts were first making themselves known in the warmest spring they'd ever known, to the coldest winter of the war.

A damp wind slaps him in the face. His eyes snap open. There's an appointment he must keep. It has to be tonight. There is no time to lose.

Not when Mathias Køhler is involved.

* * *

><p>Mathias can't concentrate in the apartment. The brothers are noisy in everything they do. Magical books are difficult to translate even in the best conditions. Mathias isn't the quietest of men, but even he can appreciate moments of peace. Eventually, he has no choice but to leave the apartment, one of the volumes safely tucked into a shoulder bag.<p>

As he leaves, he notices the brothers in the kitchen, making something together. They speak quickly in Italian, too fast for Mathias to understand. Mathias considers interrupting what might be an argument to tell them where he's going, but thinks better of it. He would rather not face down Lovino when he's angry.

He knows it's not as safe outside the Vargas brothers' warm living room, but it's worth the risk. Every town has a library. There, among the books, he knows things will be alright. No one would dare start a fight there.

The brothers don't notice him leave. They don't even hear the door open and shut.

* * *

><p>It was a spring like no other. Mathias was eighteen and in love with the world. This was before he knew his role in the war, before he was even aware of the war. The world was on the cusp of a revolution. Electricity, planes, suffragettes. While the rest of Europe worried about the tangled web of alliances pulling them toward conflict, Mathias was concerned with finding his way through Copenhagen.<p>

It was chance that brought them together. If Mathias had not been curious, he never would have entered the bookshop, never would have felt the tiny buzz of magic that led him to the boy sitting between the stacks, alone and silent, a heavy book on his lap.

They had looked at each other with innocence.

They weren't enemies yet.

* * *

><p>He is so wrapped up in the text that he doesn't notice when he falls asleep. Mathias wakes up when his notebook falls off the table. Another patron, sitting at a table across from his, gives him a dirty look. Mathias grins sheepishly and retrieves his translation notes.<p>

He had been dreaming. It was a dream of the past, as most of his were. His brain had conjured up an image of a park, looking at the sky through the leaves of a tree, joke after joke spilling from his lips to get one smile, one single solitary smile to appear. Just for him.

The memory brings him pain now. The happiness of the past is forever lost. It's the war that's to blame. Mathias tries his best not to remember. He tries. If he didn't, he would fall into a hole from which there was no escape. So here he is, half smiling, alone in a library, the pain blooming from his center until it encompasses him.

It wasn't wise of him to doze off. Anyone could have shown up and stolen the book out from under him. He should have gotten coffee, but he doesn't care for it anymore. Last night's late hours had taken more from him than they'd given.

Once all the books are translated, they will pass the information on to the rest of their ranks. Mathias isn't sure how it will be done. It's sensitive information. It would be simple enough for the enemy to tap their phones, break into their accounts. The convenience of the modern world existed for only an instant.

Outside, the day is dimming. He has been here for hours. There is an ache in his hips from the hard chair and his lower back pops as he sits up straight. By now, the Vargas brothers might be wondering where he's gone. He checks his phone. They haven't called.

Mathias hopes he remembers the way back. He packs up his things, satisfied with the work he's done so far, and steps outside. The air is still rain fresh. The sky has turned a deeper shade of blue, the kind that appears at twilight. After the quiet of the library, the chatter of ordinary people seems amplified. They order coffee, they argue. A shout rings across the street. He smiles to himself.

But one voice slices through the rest. It is ice cold, withering the conversation around it, the noise of the street. Mathias stiffens. He knows that voice. He will never forget that voice. Never.

"Mathias."

Lukas. Beautiful, cold Lukas. They had first laid eyes on each other in that bookstore and had last done so in Prague, in the midst of a battle. Years and years stretch between them. They had thought it was a gap too wide to cross.

Except here he is, unchanged. Here he is, his dark blue eyes staring straight into Mathias's, as they did that first day. Now they are in the creeping dark. And they are enemies.

Mathias breathes in and releases his name on the exhale. "Lukas." Beautiful, cold Lukas. Lukas, whom he tried to make laugh. Lukas, whom he loved, once. Lukas, who reopened every old wound he had and rubbed salt into them. Lukas, who leaves Mathias raw.

Lukas had words prepared, but he has lost them now. The unguarded look in Mathias's eyes stops him. All that grief, that passion. It takes his breath away. He hates Mathias for that. He hates him. He doesn't wish to remember looking up and seeing those young eyes, curious and kind.

When Mathias calls him by name, he is thrust backward through time, back to days spent wandering through parks, lying under trees, staying out until the sun touched the horizon. No, no. He will not remember. He will not be made sentimental.

He should not have come. He is too connected. He is weak still. Lukas winds his scarf around his hand. This is not the scene they should be playing. Mathias must know what he's here for, but he hasn't moved.

"The books," Lukas finally says. There is nothing else to say.

Mathias shakes his head. "Lukas, no." His hand slides protectively over his bag.

"If you give them to me..." he trails off. If you give them to me, I'll let you go. If you give them to me, I won't have to hurt you. I won't have to fight you. I won't have to fight myself. "Hand them over, Mathias."

"I don't want us to fight," Mathias says, but his hand is outstretched, palm down. People might see. It doesn't matter. "Let me go, Lukas. You already have enough."

"If we had enough," Lukas says tightly, "you would not be alive."

Mathias's lower lip trembles, but his jaw hardens. It hurts. It hurts beyond belief. This is worse than the memory. That was stale pain; this is fresh. He doesn't want to threaten Lukas (beautiful, cold Lukas).

There are bags underneath Lukas's eyes. Mathias is hungry. They are both so tired. Their energies are expended. If they battled now, they would collapse from exhaustion. And neither can stand to swing their fist at the other's face.

Lukas steps forward. He wants the Dane to see. He wants him to know that he's only making things more complicated. This pain would be gone sooner if he handed over the books – even one would do. I want to feel nothing, he thinks. I want to be numb.

If it comes to blows, he will not win. He is smaller than Mathias. Mathias has his weapon, though he hasn't summoned it yet. But he also seems drained. His face is hollow. They might both drop to the pavement, unconscious.

His feet wobble beneath him and Lukas almost falls from the curb and Mathias doesn't think before he winds an arm around the other man's waist, pulling them chest to chest. He hasn't been this close to Lukas's eyes in years and has forgotten the way they light up when he is surprised.

Lukas clutches Mathias's shoulders to steady himself and finds that he is caught in a position of vulnerability. He should let go of Mathia's jacket, should push him away. Instead they stand like that for a full minute. No words pass between them.

Fear. Mathias is afraid. He's afraid of everything that could happen between them at this very moment. Once, he could have laughed and set Lukas on his feet again but now he can't, for the simple reason that if he lets Lukas go now, the man will run and they will never see each other again. And he can't stand that.

He leans in and kisses him on the mouth, as delicate as a leaf on the wind. Lukas's lips part and he breathes in, drawing a small measure of Mathias's soul into his lungs. They melt into each other. Lukas's fingers press against his back and his heart – oh God – it feels _awake_. Mathias slides the flat of his hand up Lukas's spine, curling his palm around the nape of his neck. His skin is warm there, almost feverish. Lukas tastes of black coffee and smells like rain and magic.

Enemy magic.

Mathias pulls back, horrified. Lukas stares up at him, blue eyes wide and reflective beneath the street lamp. He knows too. What they have done... it's a betrayal. Immediately, what made Mathias's soul come alive mere seconds ago now turns him ill. Lukas slides from his arms, shaking his head, but he does not run. They are there, under the streetlight, companions in guilt.

What's worse is that Mathias would do it again. Presented with the same choice – letting Lukas go or kissing him – he would take the latter. The pain that he has dammed away for years is spilling out. And the love...?

Lukas puts his fingers to his lips. He can still taste Mathias there. He wears mint lip balm. It tingles. He doesn't know what came over him, only that it was a mistake to kiss back, to allow Mathias to violate him.

"Lukas," Mathias says. "I'm sorry. I don't know..."

"Stay back." Mathias hasn't moved forward, but Lukas steps back, colliding softly with the wall. His stomach clenches. Lukas does not fear. He taught himself not to years ago. How dare he be afraid of Mathias? How dare Mathias do this to him?

He always ruined everything. Lukas should have known not to trust him. He was getting sentimental. Time to end it now.

Mathias rakes his fingers through his hair. He licks his lower lip, half to erase Lukas's touch, half to recapture that taste he always hated. "Don't run away. Please."

His voice is low, pleading. Lukas's feet are planted here. He will not move until Mathias does. Strange how he can't even bear to run away.

"Let's leave the street," Lukas says.

* * *

><p>Mathias lies awake in the middle of the night, wracked with guilt and probably fear. Weak light slants in through the gap between the curtains. If Lukas feels the same gut-wrenching emotion, he doesn't show it. Though he's awake as well, which might be a sign of some inner torment Mathias isn't allowed to see.<p>

Lukas sleeps – or does not sleep – on top of the sheets, curled on his side. Mathias lies on his back, staring at the textured pattern of the ceiling. There is a space between them on the bed, maybe no more than several inches, but it may as well be an ocean.

"Mathias," Lukas says as flatly as he can manage. His accent betrays him; it turns everything into a song. "What are we going to do?"

We. What are _we_ going to do? Mathias places his hands over his eyes. Berwald had no trouble being a turncoat in himself, but the mistrust and unease that everyone around him could not help but feel suffocated any ability to treat him as one of their own. Mathias could not – would not – be like him. He couldn't turn his back on his friends, his allies, because of...

He uncovers his eyes and finally looks at Lukas. Lukas lies still, not turning. He is further in denial of Mathias, as if pretending he does not exist will dissolve his every emotion.

"Lukas," Mathias says, hoping to call the man's attention. "Lukas," he repeats.

"I don't love you," Lukas says in answer. "It was a mistake. I don't love you." He says it again so that he can try to believe it.

"Lukas, I love you."

"You don't either. I don't love you." But this repetition does not erase the things he's thought, the words unsaid burning his tongue. It does not erase the yearning he has felt for years and years – since Copenhagen, since Prague, since an hour ago when he looked at Mathias Køhler for the first time in ages and remembered what it was to feel desperate and conflicted. It does not erase the fact that he hears that voice in his deepest dreams, that he has waited, patiently, for the day they might meet again and yet dread, because to meet was to fight, perhaps to the death.

Mathias has long since given up his denial, his obstructions of the one certainty in his life. He's said the words in his head in ten languages, when it wanders late at night on forays into the wilds of his dreams.

And as dawn slowly creeps toward the world, Mathias puts an arm around Lukas and anchors them both, kissing his hair and murmuring his name.

"Lukas, Lukas, Lukas."

And, ever so softly back, "Mathias, Mathias, Mathias."


	4. Chapter 4

What is there left to dream of? While Mathias wanders through the hallowed halls of their past, Lukas looks to the future, and all he sees is destruction. They have each made their choice. It is too late to reverse that decision now. Instead, they must consider what lies ahead.

Lukas should have killed Mathias, not tried to talk to him. It would have been easier if he hadn't seen his eyes, if he hadn't heard his voice. But he did and here they are, pressed against one another as if they will drift away.

If they continue like this, they will die. Lukas knows it. He is sure Mathias must. Berwald made his switch early enough for them to release him without bloodshed. It is too late for Mathias and Lukas. Mathias and Lukas, friends to enemies, enemies to lovers.

Is that what they are now? Lovers? They have shared one kiss – and what a kiss that was – but does that make them lovers? There might be hope left.

Lukas is lying to himself. Mathias's breath is warm against his neck. He likes to be held this way. He has ached for Mathias's presence, even when cursing his name. Who knew that when their paths crossed again, they would be unable to contain themselves?

They have always loved each other. Always. Not from that first moment, of course, but perhaps from the first time Mathias succeeded in coaxing a smile from Lukas. Perhaps from the first time that Lukas played the fiddle for Mathias. They bickered often, but everyone knew they were a joint creature. One was scarcely without the other. They had fallen asleep like this before, on a couch, when Mathias was drunk. And perhaps he had slurred into Lukas's ear, "I love you."

Lukas is sick of these memories. His clenches his jaw and presses his cheek to the pillow. He repeats to himself, "I do not love him" in his mind. It doesn't work, just as before. It is too late to go back, to deny what he's known for years, practically a century.

He loves Mathias Køhler.

That is the truth.

* * *

><p>Mathias emerges from troubled sleep to find that Lukas is gone from the bed. At first, he thinks that he's disappeared in the night. It would be better for both of them if that were true. But no, he's sitting by the window, nursing a cup of coffee.<p>

"What do we do?" he asks.

_We_. It should be more satisfying to think of themselves as a pair. Mathias sits up and shrugs. They have narrow options. Several of the paths before them end in death.

Neither of them will change sides. He knows that. He would rather cut his hands off than betray his friends. Lukas feels the same. The enemy has made him strong. He's smarter than that.

They watch each other. How can someone change so much, yet remain so similar? Those are Lukas's eyes in his face, but those aren't his clothes. That isn't his shame. They've aged, a little. Gone are the innocent looks of youth, the flush of color. Lukas has been washed out.

"We can't see each other again," Lukas says. "Ever. It has to end here."

Mathias nods. Who knows what might happen if they stayed in each other's company. The danger overrules their personal feelings. He's survived one heartbreak; he can do it again.

Lukas drinks his coffee. When they were younger, Lukas seemed to drink nothing else and always took it black. In an attempt to impress him, Mathias had started as well. He'd learned to tolerate the taste, but his ability to drink it vanished the same night Lukas did.

Mathias still feels sleepy. He gets a cup for himself, then pours in three packets of sugar. Lukas looks on disapprovingly. He lost the right to disapprove of Mathias's taste long ago. Mathias ignores him and returns to the bed. He must start distancing himself.

"We don't talk about this either," Lukas says. "Understand?"

Mathias hums and nods. He's not stupid. He wouldn't have breathed a word of this to another soul. His love for Lukas is his and his alone. "I'll have to lie about where I've been."

"You can do that. You always do that."

Mathias is pleased to hear the undisguised bitterness in Lukas's voice. He used to have to work for that. It seems last night's events have destroyed most of the walls between them. "Still jealous of all the girls in Copenhagen?"

Lukas chokes on his coffee and flushes briefly. His skin is too pale for an attractive blush. "I wasn't jealous..." he begins.

"You were."

Lukas rolls his eyes. "I forgot how annoying you were. I wouldn't have kissed you if I hadn't been so tired."

Mathias would call his bluff, but it's better to pretend that Lukas doesn't have real feelings for him. Maybe it will hurt less. Even with all the sugar in it, his coffee is still unbearably bitter. Mathias sets it aside.

Lukas drains his cup, then pours himself another. Mathias wonders at how good it tasted when it was on Lukas's mouth and _he must stop thinking about it_, otherwise he might do it again and then they'll both be sorry. Why is he lingering here? Every moment they spend this close to each other and not fighting, they risk being caught.

"What will you tell your side?" Mathias asks. "I won't give you the book."

"Can't you give me one? I could say that you wouldn't tell me where the others were."

Mathias looks at his bag, slumped next to the night stand. He still has the notes. They will have that before the enemy. And if he can keep the others, it's not such a huge loss. But even so, he can't see himself giving Lukas anything.

Lukas sets his mug down with force. "Fine. Then I'll just say that I couldn't find you. Not that they'll believe me. They know our history."

Mathias shuts his eyes. Of course they would. How embarrassing. He can see them now, laughing at their failed friendship. He only hoped they weren't watching now. This room wasn't warded. They hadn't thought of it last night.

"I'll let you have the book," he concedes. "But I keep the rest. And I keep my notes."

"Fair." Lukas stands, brushing down his shirt. It's a plain black t-shirt. All of Lukas's clothes are nondescript, save for his hair clip. Whatever Lukas does for the enemy, he doesn't want to be picked out of a crowd.

Mathias wants to know why he chose them. Why he decided to abandon Mathias. He can't ask. Last night may have altered them, but not so much that they can forgive each other. Not so much that they can trust each other. Lukas takes the book from Mathias's bag and looks at it. He runs his fingers across the cover. He places it carefully in his own bag, then lays it on a chair. Watching Lukas's slender fingers reminds Mathias of other talents.

"Do you still play?"

"The violin?"

"What else?"

Lukas nods. He resisted, in the early days. He wouldn't play for Mathias, no matter how much he offered. Not even when Mathias promised to stop talking for an entire day. He will never play for him again.

"We have to fight," Lukas says, meeting Mathias's eyes. "They won't believe I got this without a struggle."

"I don't want to hurt you," Mathias says.

"Did you think we could avoid this?"

He was hoping. He was hoping that they wouldn't. Last night, instead of releasing the exhausted Lukas to the hard ground and stamping on his chest, Mathias kissed him, which may have caused him greater injury. He made his choice. He won't hurt Lukas.

"Don't be childish. You're always so stubborn," Lukas says. "Do you want them to kill you for treason?"

Mathias swings out his arms. "Where are we supposed to fight? Not in here."

"Silence field," Lukas replies. "There's an alley in the back. We'll do it there." Mathias wishes he had some other way to argue. There's nothing he can say to dissuade Lukas. The Norwegian man gathers his bag and goes to the door. "I'll wait for you. When you're ready to face the real world, you can come out."

Then he's gone. Mathias throws a pillow across the room and puts his face in his hands.


	5. Chapter 5

The discovery of their powers had been wonderful at first. Mathias had set a few things on fire, Lukas turned a painting into each of its separate parts (which drained him considerably). All in all, they were giddy. With powers like theirs, the city lay in the palms of their hands. They could be kings...

"I wonder how much we can do," Mathias wondered aloud, his leg dangling off the side of the couch. He swung it back and forth, eyes trained on the ceiling. "Do you think there are others?"

"Of course there are others. We can't be the only two wizards in the world." For a moment, Lukas let himself imagine what the others must be like. Would they be the same age or would they be old men with white beards?

Mathias jumped up, his energy suddenly renewed. "It's so exciting!" He spun around, arms outstretched. Several objects began to levitate, including Lukas's chair.

"Put me down!" he snapped, losing his composure for a moment.

The chair returned to the floor with a thump. Mathias fell and skidded forward on his knees to bring his head level with Lukas's lap. "I feel like I could lift the whole world," he said, pressing his cheek to Lukas's thigh.

Lukas looked away. He didn't have much patience for Mathias's puppy dog act. He stood up and crossed the room to the window. They had drawn the curtains to prevent suspicious eyes from seeing their magic in action. As he opened them, he noticed a flicker of movement that might have been a pigeon taking off from the gutter.

Now he knows that they were watched.

* * *

><p>Mathias hates to think of what Lukas will do to him in a few seconds. The last time they saw each other, Mathias hobbled away from the battle with more scars and broken ribs. Lukas has a way of detaching himself that frightens Mathias more than anything else in the world.<p>

When he walks into the alley, Lukas is sitting on top of a dumpster, swinging his legs. He looks at Mathias. His gaze reveals nothing. He's already put his heart somewhere else. Mathias tries to mask his disappointment.

Normally, he would welcome a fight. On a good day, he's invincible. No matter what the enemy throws at him, he can take it. The adrenaline of battle is so pure, so undiluted. A long time ago, he thought it would be impossible to raise a hand against Lukas, but that was proven wrong, amongst other things he believed. For the first time in ages, he feels that way again.

Lukas slides off the dumpster. He raises his hands. No words then. No apologies or goodbyes. This really is the end. Mathias shuts his eyes. He'll take the first blow. It'll wake him up.

Lukas's magic hits him in the gut, propelling him into the far wall. The bricks bite into his back. Lukas has gotten stronger. Mathias coughs. All the air just shot out of his lungs. He falls to the ground with a gasp.

This isn't a battle with Lukas. This is a battle with the enemy. Mathias holds out a hand and gropes for his weapon. He pulls it out of the air, curling his fingers around its handle, ripping the blade from in between dimensions. The air crackles around it.

He's almost too late to dodge the next attack. Almost. He rolls to the side, tightening his grip on the ax. Mathias's head throbs from where it hit the wall. Lukas is deadly calm as Mathias rushes him. There's a second when Mathias thinks one of them could actually be killed.

A shot of pure blue light hits his legs. They're encased in ice. The shock of being stopped so suddenly causes him to let go of the ax. It spins away. Mathias is a wizard though. He prefers the ax, but it's not his crutch.

Lukas dances away from the flames that burst up around his feet. He circles Mathias, who manages to free one foot from the ice. He kicks Lukas in the chest. The smaller man stumbles back. Mathias throws a bolt of magic at him, sending Lukas to the ground. Mathias wrenches his other leg free and dives to retrieve the ax.

As soon as his hand closes around it, a foot slams down on his wrist, almost hard enough to break it. He cries out and attempts to burn Lukas's clothes. Another shot of ice pins his hand to the ground. Lukas's shoe connects with his face. It slams into his side.

There's no magic now, just beating. Lukas falls to his knees, trapping Mathias between his legs. He raises a fist and it comes down, again and again, and Mathias can't help but feel as though some emotion is leaking out of the person he loves.

Finally, it stops. Mathias sucks in a pained breath. He's pretty sure he has a black eye coming on. Lukas is panting and his cheeks are flushed and Mathias can tell he's struggling. Lukas's fists open and close. He falls forward, bracing himself so that he hovers over Mathias's head, blocking out the faint morning sun.

"I'm done with you," Lukas says. "I'm done."

Mathias has nothing to say to that. He could beg Lukas to stay with him, to remind him that what they felt was real, that it doesn't have to end here. None of it would work, not even when Lukas's emotions are bubbling so close to the surface.

Lukas's cool fingers trace his jaw. Mathias closes his eyes. He wants to believe that Lukas is sad as he stands up. He wants to believe that Lukas's violence toward him matters more than he lets on. So he doesn't look.

All he will see is a blank space.

* * *

><p>Lukas's hands are not his own. He's outside himself. The faces that pass him are blurry. He thought he might feel better by putting his frustration into his punches, but if anything, he feels worse. There's a sickness inside him, dissolving his organs.<p>

He darts through the crowd, one arm lying protectively over the bag. He should have had the courage to take it through the traditional means. If he and Mathias had fought equally, then everything would be the same as it always has. Why did Mathias just lie there? He could have gotten up or struggled or even sliced into Lukas with his ax. But he didn't.

If it's because Mathias loves him, then it's a greater weakness than Lukas thought. Or Mathias is a masochist. That seems less likely. Lukas has seen how Mathias fights. Cocky. Almost enjoying it. Lukas fights as a means to an end; Mathias fights for entertainment.

Then there was nothing that gave him pleasure in this fight.

If they see each other again...

They will not see each other again.

* * *

><p>Mathias opens his eyes to see the Vargas brothers hovering over him. Feliciano's face is a portrait of concern; his older brother's is darker.<p>

"Get up," Lovino commands.

Mathias tries. His head spins. Lukas has beaten him badly. It still startles him – the stark contrast between Lukas's blows and the softness of his lips.

The brothers help him up. Feliciano is gentler, keeping a hand on Mathias's back. Anger radiates from Lovino, tinged with strong magic. They sit him upright against the wall.

"So, you were out all night, didn't tell us where the hell you were and lost the book," Lovino says. "Was it worth it?"

Mathias thinks of Lukas and nearly says yes. He stops himself just in time. "I still have my notes," he says.

Lovino sighs. Meanwhile, Feliciano bends over him, tenderly touching Mathias's bruises. A warmth prickles beneath Mathias's skin and soon the pain all but disappears, shrinking to a faint pulse. Feliciano, deep in concentration, says nothing, but bites his lip.

When he finishes, he says, "That was dangerous. You should have stayed at the apartment."

Mathias checks his face. No blood, no lumps. Feliciano Vargas is a gifted healer. "I wanted to get some work done."

"It was reckless," Lovino hisses. His amber eyes burn. "You could have been killed. We could have lost our Bookkeeper."

The seriousness of his departure is not lost on Mathias, but he thinks they're being sort of unfair. "It won't happen again," he promises. He won't. Lukas will never see him again. They decided.

Lovino looks like he wants to say something more, but is interrupted by his brother.

"He was just trying to do his job," Feliciano points out. "And he's alive. That's good, right?"

Lovino hesitates, then shrugs. "Well, I guess it wasn't a total loss. Just remember," he adds, getting so close to Mathias's face that he can smell the coffee on his breath (_Lukas_), "You're with us because it's the safest place to be. If you compromise that safety, your ass is mine to deal with. I am not as nice as my brother. Got it?"

Mathias nods. His throat feels dry. Feliciano looks on with only the slightest worry in his expression. For the first time, he feels as though the Vargas brothers are much older than him.

"Well, uh..." Feliciano says, breaking the tension. "Why don't we go back home now?"

"Sure," Lovino says, stepping back.

Mathias stands slowly and is surprised to find just how thoroughly Feliciano healed him. He glances at the young Italian, searching for some sign of fatigue, but he appears as chipper as ever. A healing of this degree should have weakened him somewhat.

Feliciano must be more powerful than he lets on.

* * *

><p>Lukas is acutely aware of the book's presence in his bag, almost as if it's burning a hole through the material. If the enemy knew – and they probably know by now – they would be pursuing him, tracing the book's magic.<p>

Lukas is nearly nervous, but the thought of Mathias's fellows chasing after him makes his fingers itch. They never agreed to keep everything about last night a secret. For all he knows, Mathias could be describing Lukas to them right now.

At least he has the book. Arthur will translate it, they'll use what they learn from it and maybe they'll finally win. "Winning" entails several things, however, and nothing is set in stone. Lukas might have grabbed the weakest tome of them all. Still, a small victory is better than none.

The train is quiet, allowing Lukas to think of Mathias again. Poor, delusional Mathias, with his flat accent and messy hair. Hurting Mathias was both uncomplicated and difficult. He doesn't know if he'll ever come to terms with it.

He looks at his reflection in the window. Mathias did manage to give him a few noticeable injuries, affording him a few curious looks. They'll be enough to convince the others that there was a struggle and that Mathias lost. That's enough. Lukas sinks into his seat, holding the bag in his lap.

It has always been easy for him to pretend, to close himself off unnecessary emotion. Except with Mathias. Mathias knows him so well that even the slightest twitch of Lukas's lip is as easy to read as a light up billboard. Lukas used to take comfort in that; now he's terrified that everyone who looks at him can see the contents of his heart.

"Lukas."

He looks up. Arthur is here, sliding into the seat beside him. While Lukas is rumpled from sleeping in his clothes, Arthur looks the perfect gentleman in his pressed shirt and neatly knotted tie. He crosses one leg over the other as he sits.

"Sorry to turn up like this," Arthur says. "I trust that you did the job."

"Yes." Lukas places the bag on Arthur's knees. Arthur raises his eyebrows – an impressive feat, considering how much there is to lift – but doesn't look inside. He doesn't have to. He can feel the power emanating from within.

"Well done," he says. "And Køhler?"

Lukas keeps his expression blank. "He put up a fight, as you can see, so I only got away with one." He touches the faint bruise beneath his eye. "I wasn't able to kill him."

Arthur is clearly displeased, but says only, "I'm sure there will be more chances in the future." The refined nature of his accent does little to conceal the darkness in his tone. "What will you do now?"

"I'm going to visit my brother." It's a split second decision, but it's probably the best choice he can make right now. Spending time with Emil will clear his head of Mathias, at least for a little while.

"Sounds reasonable," Arthur says. "Where is he now?"

Of course they'll want to keep tabs on him. Lukas thinks back to their last conversation. "Helsinki," he says.

"Be careful," Arthur warns. "I know for a fact that we have enemies there. I would be cautious about being seen if I were you. You've always been adamant about your brother's involvement in this war."

Lukas is surprised that Arthur would mention this, but then he notices the way the Englishman's eyes have grown distant. Oh yes, how could he not bring it up, when he too had tried to protect someone he loved?

"Anyway," Arthur says, regaining his composure, "I'll leave you to it then. Thank you." He pauses before adding, "Was it difficult for you? I know you and Køhler..."

"No," Lukas says. "That's all in the past."

* * *

><p>Once they return to the apartment, the Vargas brothers drop their business attitudes and fall back into their domestic roles. Mathias notices that they are both dressed fashionably – another display of wealth – and in subtly matching colors. Lovino wears warm reds and browns, while Feliciano is in blue. They were probably dressed alike as kids.<p>

Seeing this, Mathias pictures Lukas's younger brother. So alike, yet so different. If he's seen little of Lukas in the past hundred years, he's seen even less of his brother. Mathias remembers him as an easily agitated young man, trying to imitate his older brother's stoicism. Brothers. He's surrounded by brothers. Everyone has family but him. He could have had a family once, but like all things, it was broken apart by the war.

"Are you hungry?" Feliciano's voice cuts through his thoughts. Mathias starts. The Vargas brothers have, it seems, little respect for personal space. It might be a cultural thing. Mathias doesn't mind it so much. Physical proximity has only been a problem with Lukas.

"Sure," Mathias says with a smile.

Feliciano returns it. "I'll make something then."

He turns toward the kitchen, a spring in his step. It looks like the younger Vargas has forgiven him. As for the elder...

Lovino regards him from across the room, where he leans on the granite counter. He succeeds at being intimidating. "Who attacked you?" he asks, getting straight to the point.

Mathias hesitates. How much should he reveal? His instincts tell him to protect Lukas. He swallows. "It happened kind of fast. I didn't get a good look at him."

Lovino holds his gaze for another few moments, then accepts Mathias's lie with a soft curse.

"Swear jar," Feliciano calls over the rush of the faucet.

"Look closer next time," Lovino grumbles as he drops some money in the jar.

"Will do."


	6. Chapter 6

It takes a few days to reach Finland and not that long at all to reach its capital. Lukas pretends not to speak Finnish as to spare himself the struggle. It's comforting to slide back into Norwegian. It's also a relief to have handed on the book. He's glad Arthur came to meet him.

The cold is nothing he can't handle, but he buys himself a new scarf anyway. He hasn't visited in years and it looks so different to him now. It takes him longer to find a private spot to do a locator spell. The alley isn't as good as the empty lot, but it serves his purpose.

Once the spell is done, it's a short journey to his brother's apartment. Lukas knows his visit will be unexpected. He also knows that Emil won't turn him away.

When Emil answers the door, he pulls Lukas inside by his coat. "What are you doing here?" he says, looking his older brother up and down in shock.

Emil is relatively unchanged, which is comforting in ways Lukas can never verbally express. He's dressed for home, in worn jeans, a sweater, and sock feet. Lukas hears the automatic shutoff of an electric kettle and glances toward the kitchen.

"Wait here," Emil says. "You might as well get comfortable."

Lukas steps out of his shoes and peels off his coat. Emil's couch looks inviting. After sleeping on trains for the past few nights, Lukas is looking forward to lying down. For now, he tucks his legs underneath him and looks around.

Emil's latest is small, even smaller than Lukas's previous temporary home. Emil has always been insistent about money. "I'll be fine on my own. I don't need a mansion," he said. Lukas finds it cozy. Normal. He takes a magazine from the coffee table.

Emil returns with a pair of mugs. Lukas accepts his, cupping it in his palms. "Thanks," he says. He doesn't drink from it right away. "You know I can't warn you when I'm coming over."

"I know," Emil says, "but I can't always just let you in."

"It's worked so far."

"What if someone else is staying with me?"

Lukas raises a skeptical eyebrow.

"Er, anyway," Emil says, knowing he can't win, "why are you here?"

Lukas looks down at his mug. There are plenty of reasons, but he fails to zero in on just one. Emil is the only person he can be consistently honest with, yet the thought of telling him about Mathias fills him with worry.

"I saw him again," he admits, taking a tentative sip of hot chocolate. He prefers coffee, but he won't complain.

Emil's eyes widen. "What happened?"

"We fought. I won. End of story."

Except Emil knows it isn't the end of the story. He frowns. "So after all these years, you just beat him up and left. I have a hard time believing that."

"It's a war, Emil," Lukas says. "There isn't a lot of time for reminiscing."

"You two were close. You can't look at me and say you didn't feel anything."

Lukas runs his thumb down the handle of the mug. He's forgotten that Emil can read him as well as Mathias can, if not better. He might already know that how Lukas feels. Telling him could be dangerous. As much as his side has given him, Lukas knows better than to trust them completely. If they want information, they'll use any means to get it, including Emil.

"We _were _close," Lukas says. "Things change."

And how they change. Lukas feels a phantom of Mathias's kiss and his skin warms. He will never tell Emil about that, not even if the war weren't an issue.

* * *

><p>Mathias is forbidden from leaving the apartment. He's essentially under house arrest until he can make some progress with the books. He spends the next few days translating and shaking Lukas out of his mind. For a while, the plan works. There's hardly any room in his head for Lukas at all. It's the little things that matter, however. The scent of coffee, the sound of violins, even the mention of the fair folk in one of the books is enough to cause him pain.<p>

Why did he have to realize he loves Lukas now? Why couldn't he have done it a hundred years ago, when it would have mattered?

His head starts to spin from all the ancient lettering. His hand cramps. He drinks coffee, even though he doesn't really like it that much and it, of course, reminds him of Lukas. Lovino hovers around the door sometimes to check on his progress.

Observing the brothers becomes a little game for him. Feliciano is always going somewhere. Lovino stays behind, although it's clear he doesn't like it. Sometimes Feliciano comes back late in the evening, sparking a one sided shouting match. Mathias is more than a little jealous. _I leave the apartment once without saying where I'm going and now I'm stuck here, but _he _gets away with it? _

The defenses on the apartment really are top notch. Mathias inspects them one morning out of curiosity. He's never seen a place so protected. It makes him wonder who the Vargas brothers really are. They seem important.

But at the same time, they snap at each other and cook and Feliciano is an airhead. Then again, Mathias isn't exactly a paragon of intelligence, but there's a lot riding on him. He just doesn't get it. Eventually, he figures he might as well hold his questions, seeing as he has to work double time on the translations, now that the enemy has a book of their own.

There's a whole chapter in one tome dedicated to the summoning of fair folk, which doesn't help them at all. No one on their side can communicate with, let alone see, fairies. Mathias decides to skip it, since it will only make him think of Lukas.

Lukas had told Mathias that he'd always been able to see strange things, even before their powers awakened. Mathias didn't believe him at first. He could believe in shooting fire from his hands, but not in fairies and trolls. Maybe that was why Lukas had chosen his side.

Mathias half wishes Feliciano hadn't healed him. Then he would have something more tangible to remember Lukas by. The physical pain has stopped, but the emotional pain is never ending. Why couldn't there be a healer for that?

* * *

><p>"I still don't understand why you came back to the mainland."<p>

"There were things I wanted to do here. I couldn't stay in Iceland forever. Besides, if you needed me, you would have had to take a boat or a plane. This way, it's easier to find me."

Lukas shakes his head. "It's also easier for the enemy to find you."

"I protect myself, Lukas," Emil insists, placing his empty mug on the coffee table with an audible clink. "I may be your younger brother, but I'm a mage too. You don't need to hover over me anymore."

Even though it's been true for years, the sting hasn't faded. Lukas pretends to see something interesting in a magazine and dog ears the page. Emil can't know how much Lukas protects him. He would consider it an insult. He also can't know how many times Lukas has had to fend off his own side, to keep them from recruiting his brother.

"Enough about me," Emil declares, folding his arms. "I want to know what you said to Mathias."

"I said nothing."

"Liar."

Lukas looks up. Emil's face is like stone. He won't be deterred. Lukas should have known better. He should have expected Emil to retain some attachment to the man they met in Copenhagen. And for him to remember.

"I know you chose different sides," Emil said. "That doesn't change the past. Mathias treated us like family. We spent some of the best years of our lives with him. I don't believe you when you say nothing of interest happened. You felt _something_. Everyone can joke about how you never let anyone get inside your head, but I can read you like a book. Admit it. Resentment, regret, whatever. Something."

Lukas is afraid of what will happen if he lets the words out into the open, if they leave that pool of light beneath the street lamp, if they escape from the hotel room. Anyone could be listening. Anyone could be waiting to twist Lukas's arm, to use his weakness to get something from him. He could be marked as a traitor if anyone finds out.

"I can't tell you, Emil. You don't want to know what goes on in the war."

Emil's face flushes. "Fine. Keep it to yourself then. Don't blame me for trying to help."

Lukas opens up a perfume sample and smells it. Chanel. Fancy and spicy and nothing like musty scent of his own clothes. He needs a shower.

"I'm going to use your bathroom," he says, standing up.

"Help yourself. It's just down the hall."

Emil is angry with him now. How childish. It won't make Lukas confess. He follows the direction Emil points and shuts the door behind him a little harder than he means to. He doesn't like being harsh with his brother. They used to be so close. What happened?

Same thing that happened to every other relationship he's ever had: the war.

It takes him a minute to figure out the handles in Emil's shower. He sighs as the warm water hits his shoulders. He takes his sweet time getting clean, savoring the feeling of soap. As he rinses, he looks down at his body. There are too many scars to count, each with a story he's forgotten. How many has Mathias given him?

Lukas places his forehead against the wall. The ache in his chest just won't go away. He shuts his eyes and pictures Mathias, freed of his bulky coat, his shirt, and slick with water from a midnight swim, one that had stirred something in the both of them that they hadn't vocalized. Yes, he liked the way Mathias swam, parting the shining water with ease, like a mermaid.

He twists the cold handle viciously. It wakes him up just enough to hear Emil knock.

"What?" Lukas calls, turning off the shower.

"I've got some stuff you can borrow. I'll just leave it out here."

Lukas reaches for a towel. "Thank you."

They will forgive each other in the morning. They always forgive each other. Lukas doesn't see Emil often enough to hold a grudge against him. After a good night's sleep, Lukas will apologize, Emil will apologize back. Lukas will stay for a few more days, then move on.

He wishes he could stay forever.

* * *

><p>It is not a sound that wakes Mathias but the absence of it. He opens his eyes and glances around the darkened room. No tires running on the street, no creaking floorboards, no air conditioning humming along. Nothing.<p>

He sits up and gets out of bed. His movement makes noise, but there's nothing else, like the world suddenly hit pause. The clock says it's 3 AM. Great. For once, he went to bed early, and here he is, awake again.

He checks the desk. Everything is as it was. They haven't been tampered with. Yet the strange silence is more than a little worrisome. Mathias opens the door a crack and peers into the hallway. It's dark and both bedroom doors are closed. If the brothers aren't awake, then they must be heavier sleepers than he thought.

Mathias creeps down the hall. His footsteps sound so loud, even in bare feet. He tries to expand himself, to reach out and touch the edges of the silence. Yes, there is a boundary that begins at the front door and ends at the far side of the apartment, carefully avoiding the brothers' rooms. He frowns.

This isn't a natural silence. It was formed, but by whom? The enemy? Lovino assured him that this place was safe. No one can find it. Mathias is inclined to believe him. It must be one of their own. Why the barrier, then? This doesn't make sense.

Unless…

Mathias braces himself as he enters the living room. There's a tall man sitting in one of the armchairs, reading something on his phone. The light of the screen is harsh on his face, turning his glasses into two spots of white. They flash upward as Mathias approaches.

"What the hell, Berwald?" he demands.

Berwald shrugs. Of course. If Berwald can gesture, he won't bother talking. Annoying as always. Mathias scrubs his fingers through his hair. It's greasy. He's been working without showers for the past couple days.

"How did you get in?"

"Door was open."

Like hell it was. The brothers lock it religiously. Mathias has seen the ceremony often enough. Not even Feliciano is so careless.

"How did you even know I was here?" Mathias says, taking a seat on the other free chair.

Again, a shrug. Mathias doesn't have to ask. It was Tino. Tino tells his boyfriend everything, and because Tino knows everything about everyone, Berwald does too. Mathias grinds his teeth together.

"So what are you here for?"

The Swede turns off the phone screen and they're plunged into darkness. "You lost a book. And we know who took it."

Mathias is glad it's dark, because the blood has just drained from his face. "Really? Because even I don't know who took it from me."

"Lukas."

To hear his name from another's mouth is more startling than Berwald appearing in the apartment. For the past few days, Lukas has been Mathias's secret. Sometimes it feels like their meeting was imagined. He feels exposed.

"I haven't seen Lukas in ages," Mathias lies with a wave of his hand. "Why do you bring him up?"

"I saw 'im. Ran away from me in England."

"What happened?"

No answer. Mathias forgot how annoying this could be. Finally, Berwald speaks again. "Tino tracked 'im. Still had his glove."

Mathias's heart clenches. He can't breathe. The walls are closing in and as they creep closer, the urge to leap out of his chair and strangle Berwald grows.

"We know he came here. Where you are."

"I didn't see him."

"Right after you lost the book, he moved on to Finland," Berwald says evenly. "Everyone else forgets. I remember. You two…"

"Shut up." Mathias jumps up. "You don't know anything. You left! And then you come crawling back to be with Tino. I don't forget either, _ven_."

Though he can't really see Berwald's face, he senses the other man's anger building. Mathias considers tearing down the silence field. If he had the brothers on his side, then Berwald could be sent packing. But they would want to know what he came for and then…

"He has the book," Berwald says. "Whether or not you saw 'im."

Mathias breathes out, slowly, attempting to release his own anger. The silence field would allow him to physically throw Berwald out, but a fight would disturb the room, especially if fire got involved (and with Mathias, it somehow always did).

"We need it back."

"I have more books," Mathias says, his heart growing cold.

"We're at war."

_We've been at war too long. _Mathias hates this, hates Berwald, hates his own emotions for betraying him. "He probably doesn't have it anymore. He can't translate."

"How do you know?"

He doesn't. Lukas could have learned. It's possible.

"We'll retrieve it," Berwald says, standing up. "If he doesn't…"

Mathias fumbles through the dark for Berwald's collar, finds it and jerks him forward. "If you lay a single finger on him, I'll – "

Berwald frees himself. "No. I won't hurt 'im. Not if I don't have to."

He sounds sincere. If he's telling the truth, it's not because of Mathias.

Neither of them forgets.

* * *

><p>Emil's couch is soft. Lukas doesn't want to get up when he hears the phone ringing in the kitchen. He peers out from beneath the afghan. Emil isn't up yet. Lukas decides to let it ring. If it's important, the caller will leave a message.<p>

And suddenly it stops. Lukas is still. The heater was running a moment earlier. Now it's silent as the grave. His lungs constrict. He sits bolt upright, throwing off the blankets he piled on himself last night. The floor is cold.

"Emil!" he calls, his voice sounding louder than it's ever been. "Emil!"

No answer. His brother can't hear him.

The door bangs open, the broken lock clattering uselessly against the wood. Lukas whirls around, firing a bolt of magic. The shot is deflected, flinging it against a poster, which falls off the wall. Cold air rushes into the room.

"Lukas," says one voice.

"Bondevik," says the other.

He's shaking, shaking. Another shot of magic. Another deflection, this time onto the coffee table. Glass shatters, scattering in every direction. Lukas throws up his arms to protect himself. A few shards strike his skin. He's too panicked to use a magical shield.

_This isn't happening. _

It's a nightmare brought to life: Tino and Berwald at the door, striding into his brother's apartment, bringing the war into the one safe place he had left.

Tino's boots crunch on the glass. "Lukas," he says, extending a hand. "We didn't come to hurt you."

"Then what for? How did you find me?"

Tino pauses, sharing a glance with Berwald.

"_How did you find me_?" Lukas repeats, harsher this time.

"That's not important," Tino explains. "We want to know where the book is."

"I don't have it! I handed it off! _La meg være alene_!" He can hardly keep up with Tino's Finnish when he's this stressed. It's not helping him calm down.

"Where is it now?"

"Find it yourself," Lukas growls.

Berwald moves closer.

"Stay away!"

"Not going to hurt you," Berwald says, looking around the room. Then, his gaze settles on the hall behind Lukas. "Emil."

Lukas springs forward, jabbing the point of his elbow into Berwald's stomach. Tino somehow springs behind him, grabbing the back of his shirt and forcing him to the ground. The force of his magic nearly squeezes the breath out of Lukas.

He screams for Emil. He hears Berwald's heavy footsteps leave the field. Lukas struggles and squirms, jamming his own power against Tino's. Every time he feels a break, Tino rushes to cover it and he can hardly do anything because his heart is screaming for Emil and he wishes – for once – that there were someone here to rescue him.

Berwald returns, Emil's limp body thrown over one shoulder. Lukas shouts every curse he knows, even the ones in the old language. Several mugs break in the kitchen. The water turns on. The cupboards bang open and shut. Tino keeps him down, but he can't last for much longer.

"Until we get the book back," Tino says, following Berwald to the door, "Emil stays with us."

The pressure lifts. Lukas scrambles to his feet. He's not quick enough to stop them. They're gone as he blinks, missing his attack. It strikes the door so hard it leaves a mark.

His feet are bleeding from the glass. The place is a mess. Emil's home. Lukas sinks to the floor. He can't stop the tears because they're already flowing, trickling down his chin. He sobs, tucking his face into the collar of his t-shirt, cursing himself and Mathias, hating Berwald and Tino and himself.

There is nothing more the war can take from him, because it has already taken everything.


	7. Chapter 7

"Feli, get the door!"

"I'm busy!"

"You're not busy," Lovino says, waving a fork at his brother's head. "You're trying to balance a spoon on your nose. It makes you look like an idiot."

Feliciano shares a sad glance with Mathias and removes the spoon. "Then I'll answer the door," he says cheerfully, skipping to it. "I hope it's not a solicitor."

"You can't lay down a spell to get rid of them?" Mathias asks. He's reclining on the couch, reading for pleasure and attempting to learn Italian. So far, they've been getting by with English, but he would like to know what the brothers talk about when they slip into their native language.

Lovino shrugs. "Why bother? It takes enough energy to keep the wards fresh."

"Hello?" Feliciano says, opening the door. He gasps sharply, hopping back.

Lovino is at his side in a second, pointing an enormous knife at the door. As Mathias bounds off the couch, he sees Feliciano tug his brother's hand down, stammering something urgent in Italian. And in the doorway…

"Hello," Tino says. "We're sorry to intrude."

"You could have warned us you were coming," Lovino grumbles. "What the hell did you do?"

Mathias struggles to look past the twins. Berwald is carrying someone on his shoulder like a sack. His heart pounds. _Lukas?_

The brothers step aside to allow Berwald and Tino into the apartment. Berwald sets his load down on the couch. It's not Lukas. It's Emil.

The whole room turns red. Mathias's heart is no longer pounding from fear, but from rage. He wants to run the blade of his ax straight through Berwald, ally or no. Emil doesn't appear to be hurt, but he's out cold and wearing only pajama pants and an old t-shirt. In any case, Emil shouldn't even be here. Emil was never supposed to get involved.

"You bastards," Mathias says, clenching his fists. "What were you thinking?"

Tino flinches. Berwald gazes off into the kitchen. Even the twins are disturbed. Feliciano leans over the couch, a hand hovering above Emil's forehead. He looks at Mathias, confusion swimming in his amber eyes.

"Lukas took the book. If he can return it, then we'll return Emil," Tino says.

"And if he can't get it back to you?"

"We're not going to hurt him," Tino says, his hand pressed to his heart. "Emil is our friend too."

"He _was_ our friend," Mathias corrects. "Lukas was trying to keep him out of the war. He's going to kill you."

Tino shakes his head. "I know it's unpleasant, but we can't let them keep that book. You, of all people, have to understand."

"Lukas?" Feliciano suddenly says. "Who's Lukas?"

Mathias finds the point of Lovino's knife just under his chin. The elder Vargas stares at him, trying to find cracks in Mathias's shield. "I'd like to know, too," he says. "You said you couldn't tell who stole the book from you."

"I don't know," Mathias insists. "They think it was Lukas." He points at Berwald and Tino, for good measure. "And hey, maybe they're right, but that doesn't mean they can kidnap his younger brother. Emil isn't even part of the war."

The knife doesn't move. "How do you know Lukas?"

"He was our friend before the war," Tino explains. "We ended up choosing different sides."

Lovino's eyes narrow. They travel to Berwald, then back. He lowers his voice so that only Mathias can hear before he asks, "Not thinking of becoming a turncoat, are you?"

"It's not like that," Mathias says. It's half true and half false. "We were just friends. I haven't seen him in years."

Lovino lowers the knife. "Well, we've got the kid now," he says, nodding at Emil. "What should we do with him?"

"This is the safest place possible," Tino says. "Keep him here until we get word from Lukas."

"We've only got one guest room," Lovino says.

"He can stay on the couch," Feliciano suggests, brushing Emil's bangs off his forehead. "We'll take good care of him. He'll be safe here." He looks at Mathias when he says this.

"He should wake up in another hour," Tino explains, kneeling beside the couch. At least he has the sense to look guilty. Mathias doesn't want to start hating the Finn as well. It would be too much to bear. Still, he can't reconcile this.

"And Lukas knows you took him?" he asks, directing the question at Berwald.

The Swede nods, not making eye contact. "He was there."

Mathias feels another chill coming on. He knows that Lukas would never let them just walk out with his brother. "What did you do?"

"We didn't hurt him either." Tino is quick to defend. "Not really."

It appears Berwald was true to his word. "Not really" is bothersome, though. What does "not really" mean to Tino? He's never understood how Berwald and Tino function, as a pair. While Tino is a kind person, the type to adopt stray dogs and children on a whim, it doesn't mean he's incapable of the nastier work. Mathias has known him for a very long time.

It's strange, watching Emil sleep, Berwald and Tino hovering over him like that. They were family once. They had promised to stay together, but they splintered. Now it's just Mathias, with a head full of memories he can't stand, a heart that remains fixated on the one person he can't have, and no place to call his own.

They are incomplete. Lukas should be here. They should be smiling.

* * *

><p>"Do you think you'll ever get married, Lukas?"<p>

Mathias was full of these questions. He would just lie on the floor, his hands behind his head, and throw out hypotheticals and "what ifs" as though Lukas actually cared about responding to any of them. It was his habit to ignore the young Dane when he got like this, but his newest question made Lukas pause.

Marriage? Mathias tended to float romantically, investing all his time and energy into one girl until she finally rejected him, leading to weeks of moping before discovering a new passion on which to fixate. Lukas couldn't imagine him marrying anyone. Not that Mathias would never be able to commit – he always was – but no girl would have him for longer than a month.

As for Lukas… He'd never had time for anyone. He was too busy looking after his brother and Mathias. What sort of girl would he marry anyway? Another mage, one who would match his lifespan?

"No," he said, finally. "I don't think I will."

"Do you think you'll ever fall in love?"

Lukas shook his head. He had a strange feeling in his spine. He and Mathias were alone in their flat. Yet it felt like they were being observed, and very closely at that. Lukas got up and went to the window. He peered out from between the curtains.

"Why not?" Mathias whined, sitting up. "It's amazing."

"Doesn't seem worth the effort," Lukas answered. There was no one on the street. What was he feeling? He closed his eyes. Vision could be deceiving. The sixth sense never lied.

"Not worth the effort?" Mathias cried, getting to his feet.

Lukas sighed. "Every time you 'fall in love' you end up rejected. How is that amazing?"

Mathias was silent for a few minutes. Lukas tried to ignore the sound of him pacing. There was something lurking nearby. If only he could reach it.

A weight appeared on his shoulder. Lukas's eyes snapped open. Mathias had crept up behind him, his arms draped around Lukas, his head nestled against Lukas's neck. The Norwegian swallowed. Mathias smelled strongly of smoke. He'd been hanging around that bar again, but not drinking. Why? Lukas felt his pulse quicken as Mathias leaned into him.

"You know the story of The Little Mermaid, right?"

"Yes." Mathias always drank. Everywhere. Even in the middle of the day, if he could get away with it. What had he been doing in that bar if he hadn't been drinking?

"She pined and pined after that prince, traded her tail for feet that hurt her every time she stepped, and refused to kill her beloved, even when it could have saved her." Mathias's voice was dreamy and soft, his hair tickling Lukas's jaw. "In the end, she died. Turned to sea foam. Do you know why?"

Lukas shook his head. Honestly, he'd never understood that story. Why would the mermaid continue loving the prince when he offered nothing in return? What was the point of an ending like that?

"Because it felt so good just to be in love. That's why."

"It still doesn't make any sense," Lukas said. "She should have realized it was a lost cause."

"Oh, she did, but you can't just stop. We might fall in love with the wrong people at the wrong time, but the feeling of it… you'll understand one day, Lukas."

"You're nothing but a hopeless romantic. Your only examples come from stories." Lukas ducked out from beneath Mathias's arms.

Mathias just laughed. "Fiction has a lot to teach us, Lukas. Oh! Can you ask the mermaids if they know the story?"

Lukas rolled his eyes. "Idiot," he muttered under his breath. But he was afraid. Something told him that his time with Mathias was running out. Someone or something would divide them, and carry Mathias away.

* * *

><p>There are mermaids in the bay. Lukas hears them singing. He draws closer to the dark waters, careful not to listen to the words of their song, lest they draw him under. In his current state, the desire to jump in is strong. He resists.<p>

"I know you're there," he says. "I hear you."

The singing pauses. Then a head rises from the bay, and another and another. Lukas can only see their eyes at first, but soon their shoulders are out of the water, glistening in the evening light. He sits down, hands in his pockets. The cold is worse than usual tonight.

"You," the closest mermaid says. Her hair is tangled with seaweed and little white shells. "I remember you. Your eyes are older than your looks, boy." Lukas can't remember any of the mermaids he used to speak with. They're a last resort, when summoning a fairy is too much. That they remember him is not so surprising. There are few in this world who can hear them anymore.

"I need a favor," he says.

"You will have to pay. We aren't your servants," the mermaid says. Her voice is lovely, but hisses on certain words. She smiles, revealing rows of pointed teeth. Lukas remembers all the illustrations of The Little Mermaid, as well as the film that children love so much, and how she never, ever looked like this.

"What do you want?" He's tired. He's desperate. He can't trust mermaids, but they might be the only ones that can help him.

The mermaid tilts her head this way and that, thinking. Her friends are all whispering. Some of them are young. They have probably never spoken with a human before. Lukas is a novelty to them. They draw slowly closer, cautious but intrigued. If Lukas isn't careful, they'll want him forever. He stays a good distance from the water.

"Music," the lead mermaid finally says. "The kind you used to play for us in the old days."

The violin. Lukas tries not to show his relief. They could have requested his blood, his firstborn son, anything. Yet all they wanted was music. That should be easy to deliver. He told Mathias that he still played, but only for himself. Never for an audience.

Well, that's not necessarily true. For Emil, he would, if he was asked. Something happy. Something that would make his brother tap his foot in time.

For Emil.

He opens his violin case, tightens the bow and runs it across the rosin. He fits in under his chin. This is not the same instrument that he played for Mathias. That one grew old and out of tune, eventually falling to pieces. He plucks a string, experimentally.

Mathias must have told. Otherwise, no one would have known it was him. Berwald carried off his brother. Tino held Lukas down while he did it. And Mathias – _oh, Mathias_ – betrayed him. Everyone betrayed him.

He plays for the mermaids, something energetic, so as to disguise his fatigue. They are silent; the only sounds are that of distant, passing cars and waves lapping at concrete. The music soars into the night and is swallowed up by the sea.

And as Lukas saws at the strings, he knows that he will have to see Mathias again and he will hurt him as Mathias has hurt him. He is not like The Little Mermaid, martyred for her love. He is Lukas Bondevik. He loves Mathias Køhler, more than he thought he ever could, and he knew all along that Mathias's love was shallow, because if Mathias really loved him, he would have stayed at his side, wouldn't have been seduced by the enemy, wouldn't have let them take Emil.

Before he knows it, his eyes are wet again and the song is over. He lowers the violin, head tilted back to hide his tears.

The mermaid says, "You play beautifully as ever."

"I was taught by a _nøkk_."

She sighs. "And yet you look down on us. Such a shame, such a shame. What do you ask of us, boy?"

"I need a weapon. Anything."

The mermaid grins. "Easy," she says, turning to her comrades. She hisses something at them and a few plunge back into the bay. They come up again, moments later, holding a knife. It shines silver in their hands.

The first mermaid takes it from them, then swims closer to where Lukas stands. She holds it up to him, still grinning.

Lukas doesn't move. "Toss it up," he says.

Her grin diminishes. Lukas knows better than to get within her reach. She tosses the knife up and he catches it. It's lighter than he imagined. He tucks it into his belt, beneath his jacket. It's not Mathias's axe, but it will serve him well.

"We see into you, boy," the mermaid taunts as he gathers the violin case. "We know you want revenge. They've stolen from you, but you stole from them first. An eye for an eye."

"You don't know anything about me."

"We've heard your silly human stories," she continues. "His blood won't return what you've lost, boy." Lukas hurries away, but her voice follows him. "Foolish, foolish humans. You gave it to him, little one!"

Her laughter rings in his ears as their song starts again.

* * *

><p>AN: A nøkk is a Norwegian water spirit, a kind of male nymph that lures women and children into the water with beautiful violin music. It's said that, under the right circumstances, they are willing to teach a human how to play.


End file.
